by Frank, S. W.
He almost laughed at her naiveté and the ‘our mistakes’. She must’ve meant her mistake. “And Nico, where does he fit into this working together for the sake of the kids scenario; is he the absentee dad role and I become the substitute parent who helps to raise his kids? Just how does it all play out on the real life stage and not in your fantasy world, since you’re so eager to go forward and focus on the children, huh?”
“You’re such an asshole!”
“Hey, I’m moving forward, I just wanted to know what your plan is. You’re all anxious to let go of the past but ignore you have to face it before you go forward. I had my world turned upside down when you and Nico had you’re hot and heavy affair. Vincent’s dead and there’s innocent babies upstairs with a shit of a father. Allie and Sal are caught in this mess you made and so am I. Deal with facts, mujer and stop pretending shit’s perfect.”
She sighed and touched his arm, it seared his skin. “Whatever, bad I’ve done, Alfonzo, I’m paying for it, but there’s a point when you can’t keep punishing me. The bad shouldn’t negate all of the good. Please, don’t demonize me. “She put her palm to his chest, “Cut me some slack Alfonzo, lower your emotional guns.”
“Are you sleeping with him, babe?” He sneered.
Her eyes scrunched together, “What? Nico, no, we’re done.”
“You don’t get it your way anymore. Batting those fucking eyes, playing innocent with me and sweet talking me won’t cut it, mujer, no mas, get me?”
Selange sucked in a long breath and her diaphragm constricted. “I’m tired. We could’ve cleared these issues in counseling but you didn’t want to. You left and now you’re hammering me to the ground with your anger. Well, I’m tired and I don’t want to do this. I’m holding up the white flag. I surrender. You win, I made a bad choice. I tore apart my family. I broke my vows. I lied. I hurt you and I’m sorry. Are you happy, will that satisfy you?”
“No.” He frowned, “I’m not happy. Can’t you see I’m holding it together by the skin of my teeth? Do you have any idea how it feels to get your heart butchered and snatched out your chest? That’s what you’ve done to me. Happy, what the fuck is that?”
“The children Alfonzo, think about them, don’t think about me anymore. Let me go, wipe me from your mind if you have to but don’t be this raging person, our children need their dad.” She looked at the floor, “It’s killing me…” she shook her head, “I just don’t know what to say to you…that I haven’t already said.”
The harsh ice which formed in his vessels cracked as he observed her wretchedness. How could he kill her in his mind? He’d tried, nothing worked. Each time he thought he’d gained control over his anger, it flared and scorched him in a backdraft. This was one of those times. The sad eyes were mesmerizing. How do you love somebody and dislike them?
A sudden urge to taste her sugary lips appeared. He refused to censure himself, instead he gave in to the impulse, after-all hadn’t she done the same with Nico? His arms circled her slim waist and crushed her to his body. Selange’s sadness became confusion. Without uttering a word he pressed his angry mouth to her shocked lips, forcing them wide to taste the sweetness he was missing. Initially, she stood rigid, then something gave and she relaxed. She sighed, under the emotions building then her arms were raised and her fingers were in his hair. He gripped her buttocks, hoist her up and maneuvered around the furnishings until he had her pinned on the sofa. His mouth sucked her throat as he pushed up her top and exposed the breasts he witnessed giving nourishment. He wanted the same and put his mouth on her swollen breast and licked her nipple, remembering how delicious she tasted and hungrily clamped down with the folds of his mouth sucking harder. He wanted more, angry at her for depriving him of a lifetime of happy. She moaned and began to push forward, offering herself to him and he planned to take, oh yes he did!
She clutched his shirt, grappling with it, until his mouth came to her lips and she relaxed. His breathing increased at the sexual awakening. She clumsily fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, working several loose and rubbing his hairless chest. Alfonzo’s hands were between her thighs, rubbing and causing friction which set her on fire. The torch ignited and her hands grappled with his trousers. She wiggled beneath him and unhooked his pants. Her fingers descended and took hold of his throbbing flesh. Alfonzo’s chest pound a thousand beats per minute and his hands were on the rim of her shorts, perched to yank them down, until he remembered this wasn’t his home anymore and Selange wasn’t his wife and those weren’t his babies upstairs and he stopped cold.
She gasped when he withdrew from her lips and frowned at the turmoil in his eyes then sighed. She slid up on the sofa and tugged her top back down. Her eyes seemed to change from light to dark and he chastised himself for leading her on. It wasn’t intentional, it was crazy that gripped him and he’d suddenly broken free. She lied, cheated and tore the family apart. He nearly succumbed to damnation. He kneed off the sofa and buckled his belt. “Give me a call when the kids are ready and I’ll come back,” he said then hauled ass out of there before he lost his senses. He threw air jabs outside the door from the sexual frustration, “Come on, stick to your guns, leave it alone. You’re divorced. It’s over –plus she’s bad for your heart!”
Alfonzo straightened his shirt. His engine was revved and running on all cylinders. Ay caramba, when it came to that woman he was putty!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nico strolled briskly through the hall and opened the door. He’d seen the shiny cars lining the cobblestone driveway of the secluded estate and determined this meeting was far more important than Alberti let on. He was frisked then shown into the dining hall. Seated at a shiny mahogany table were eight of the most powerful men in Europe. Their faces were ones out of the old black and white movies. They were stern, privileged, unforgiving and formidable men. Their positions ranged from the Minister of Finance to a media mogul. They were senior men, who sat erect in their thousand dollar suits and when they observed him enter, he had a feeling these were the silent faces of the elite members of organized crime.
His father, Alberti sat at the head of the table. The question Nico had about the unsuspecting old man had been answered, based on the seating arrangement. Alberti waved him over and pointed to an empty chair on his right.
Nico sat. He nodded to each man and used the old tongue to greet them, “Afternoon, council.”
They all nodded.
Uniformed hosts placed thick black cups of coffee and pastries in front of each man before being promptly escorted from the room by armed guards. The door was then locked and protected by men with semi-automatic machine guns. This, did not faze Nico, he saw such security throughout his tenure with the Palazzo’s. Once he stood watchful like those soldiers, attentive and trained to handle any outward dangers and those within.
Alberti cocked his head to his son; no English was spoken in this room. It was forbidden; a rule adhered to by the eight. Nico was wise to have begun his introduction in such a way. “You are well?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Alberti turned to the group. “We begin.”
The Minister of Finance addressed Nico. “Tell us why we should spare your life, Nico.”
Ah, so this meeting was a tribunal, a prelude to his execution. Ironic, his biological father led it. He refrained from showing any sign of disrespect. These were old-fashioned men who watched mannerisms over words. “I don’t care about my life; it’s my soul that matters. If I’m here to plead like a coward for life, I’d rather die with dignity in silence.”
“You talk boldly, isn’t life worth anything to you?”
Nico thought about it, “But I refuse to barter. Life-death,” he shrugged, “beginnings and endings. There’s no valuation I can assign to either of them. Throw the die, pick straws and I’ll accept the decision without argument.”
Another intervened when he saw Nico’s mind was made-up. The man feared no one. Yet, there were other questions he wished to ask regar
ding the former Don Palazzo. “Loyalty is the way, what way did you travel when you broke your pledge to Luzo Palazzo?”
“The road of honor. I upheld a pledge to someone living over an oath to the dead.”
Complete silence ensued as they absorbed his words, finding the meaning of the statement questionable, perhaps offensive, but Nico did not care. His final words were honest statements and to avoid punishment he’d forego a route of lies. Vincent and the mother who wiped his tears and smiled at his drawings waited. He longed for the reunion.
“And this pledge to the living, is it more to you than your brothers, Nico?”
Here Nico paused. His answer was twofold. “No pledge is required for my brothers, because there is an unspoken bond held tight by blood and an oath to another can never sever it.”
This answer seemed to satisfy the curious man and a question came from the far end of the table from one who had yet to speak. “You are certain the children with this woman are yours?”
“Yes.”
“Is there conflict in your heart, young man?”
“No.”
“You find no moral dilemma in what you’ve done?” Another inquired with a steady gaze.
“I’m not a priest and even they’re human. You’ve asked a man who kills a moral question. It shouldn’t surprise you he doesn’t battle a spiritual or moral conscience or else he wouldn’t be in a moral less profession.”
“But Nico, even an enforcer knows the difference of actions which are wrong and those that are right, no!”
“You did not ask about my actions, you asked about my morality, which infers my state of mind.”
“Then I will correct myself. Do you believe you acted inappropriately with the wife of Don Alfonzo?”
“I am sworn to protect the family of Don Alfonzo and his wife falls within my duties. Her request led to my actions and as the wife of Don Alfonzo, she was given reverence. I am given many inappropriate orders that if questioned would make me a priest.” Nico smirked, “But, as I said, even priests are human.”
Alberti chuckled at his son’s wit. Ah, his ability to find plausibility in his adulterous act by using their codes was refreshing. Nico is certainly his son. “You make an argument that we will examine and discuss among ourselves.”
“We can speak openly here Alberti, Nico’s relation to you affords him witness. I find fault with it. A woman’s request to be her lover is a disloyalty to her husband.” The Minister of Finance quipped.
Another disagreed. “Is it true the request came in an hour of desperation as your father informed us before you came, elaborate?”
“Yes, she was distraught. It was the anniversary of her mother’s brutal murder. She unfortunately, discovered the dead bodies, one which was also Don Alfonzo’s uncle. So, in the fit of a nightmare she sought me out for comfort. Her husband was absent and I was there.”
“You could have comforted another way, Nico.”
“I comforted her, does the way matter, it eased her fears?”
The next question came from Matteo’s father, “We hold no judgment in men’s external affairs but this is a special case in light of the subject. To settle this matter in my mind, tell me Nico do you love the woman?”
The answer was an unequivocal, “Yes.”
“Do you love Don Alfonzo?”
“Yes.” And this was true. Nico answered mechanically. Had they asked this of his sons and Ariana, the answer would have been the same.
The men were silent. They had their answers and it was time to deliberate. Only then did Alberti speak again to his son, “Please, take a seat in the hall. We will call you, when the decision is made.”
Nico took a long gulp of the coffee first and grabbed a pastry, then stood. No sense in starving before he died, he thought as he went into the hall, chewing the light delicacy. He settled atop a striped settee against the wall, reclined his head and closed his eyes. He was aware he could not leave. The men at the edge of the hall blocked the exits. Nico scoffed, he wasn’t concerned with death. They could butcher him now and he would not feel a thing. He was numb. He’d been groomed for this life, and taught to accept death. It didn’t matter the means of his demise. Death was death all the same. He’d gone over it many times in his youth and as a boy feared it. Then, when the hopes and dreams of innocence faded, so too did the fear. Living, meant feeling, in death there was nothing. When you cannot be your own man and are held to a path not of your making, dark slumber becomes a welcome bed.
The men inside questioned his loyalty and he had none other than love. How could he honor a dead man and forsake love? He would be a dead man living if he had. His mouth twisted downward, loving Ariana and Selange were the greatest treasures a man could have. They bore life, not death and he clung to it because he tired of the grotesque trappings of his existence. As a youth his passion was to create. Art, literature and things of beauty were his true calling until his hopes were snatched and slaughtered by the hand of fate.
He must have dozed, why else would there be a hand on his shoulder asking him to wake? He blinked and sat forward.
“Go in.”
Nico stretched his mouth then entered the room again. On the table beside Alberti sat a large jeweled box. When he joined the men, only his father spoke this time. “They have deliberated Nico. I had to abstain. Before I tell you the decision, there is something I must show you.” He opened the lid of the small chest and removed an old book, letters and pictures. He spread them out in front of his son. The men were silent as he told the history. “These men, each of them here are loyal and honorable Nico. Their grandfathers were as well. Working class men in a time of hardship when Italy was ruled by a monarchy. The King in an ugly part of our history squashed poor citizens protesting the price of bread in Naples. You know of the history. What you do not know is this.” He slid a picture of a pretty woman with high cheekbones, refined and exotic in a colorful dress. “Her name is Semira Afizwusi. Her first name means Highest Heaven to some and fulfillment to others. She was a young woman from Eritrea who the King fell in love with. She became his mistress, several years before this unfortunate incident. He housed her in a stately home in Calabria and showered her with gifts. Here are the love letters from the king to Semira. This is your great great-grandmother, Nico; it is also your legacy.”
Nico touched the picture, traced his hands over the old fading photograph, surprised at how well it survived even with the cracks along its edges from time and climate changes. It was carefully preserved as were the others and the beauty of the woman made him smile. He felt the woman’s soul, as she smiled at him from a distant past. His affinity to Ariana and Selange explained in this moment. His ancestry shared with the women he loved was a connection that existed long before they met. He nodded, yes history cemented the open cracks and he understood more about himself.
“Nico, the birth of her sons, your great grandfather and his brother, a twin like you was a well-kept secret. When the King was assassinated, Semira took an offer of protection from a wealthy man in Calabria. He became her husband, thus the Giacanti name. He was against the monarchy, yet he protected Semira from being ostracized or worse. The people of Calabria loved her and throughout her life she gave to the farmers and taught languages at a local school. She spoke many different languages and was known for her love of art and poetry.”
Nico smiled wider. These musings were of interest, since it explained his appreciation of the arts and languages. He pushed aside the old photos to view the family tree. It began with his great great-grandmother, chronicling only the Giacanti genealogy. He memorized it as Alberti spoke.
King of Italy [married] _____ Semira Afizwusi [later marries Lupe Giacanti]
Offspring Born of the unsanctioned union between the King & Semira
[Nicolo and Vincenzo]
Nicolo [deceased] ___________ Vincenzo Giacanti-[wife: Nicolette Szorsa]
[Offspring]
Sergio Giacanti-[wife: Amelda Cecelia Pugglione]
>
[Offspring]
Salvatore, Anthony, Giuseppe, Cecily, Angelina
The rest of the family tree was inked in. The line of Palazzo’s, Dichenzo’s and Luca’s. When he saw him and Vincent’s name there, his hand hovered over the document. He asked, “What happened to Nicolo?”
“There are many rumors. He was killed during a dispute in a gambling room. He was only twenty-two and engaged. The murderer was never caught. We will never know the truth.”
“And my great great-grandmother?”
“She died in the cholera outbreak. Her husband honored her wishes and returned her body to Africa. She is on her father’s land in Eritrea.”
Nico nodded and Alberti continued with the history lesson. “Before these unfortunate incidences, Lupe Giacanti formed an organization, composed of men who opposed the monarchy. He believed the ancient traditions which fed an undeserving few with titles were an exploitation of the working class. He felt all monarchies were undeserving, lazy and greedy zealots who proffered from the backs of the poor.
The men who were part of the organization he founded were working men and farmers who shared his ideology. They also pledged to keep his wife and children safe from the royal family and their supporters who wanted to eliminate any claims of Semira or her bastard children to the King’s riches. They were known as The Circle of Protectors. They were loyal men who kept their vows and passed the responsibility to their first-born sons. Of course, time and distance can lessen a man’s convictions and soon many found different causes to pursue. The men here are descendants of the most loyal of the Circle. There is no mention of the King’s mistress in the history books and do not expect there to be. Any documents or proof, the royal family destroyed. These are the only proof which exists and our blood, line after line keeps the truth. My father, Sergio, formed the IBD, long after, but for the purposes of business and commerce. He was well-respected for his business acumen and charming. A handsome man he was, but, the reason he is loved even far after his death is for his humanity during an ugly history of Hitler. He assisted in providing safe shelter for those escaping the madness of Hitler, putting his own life at risk in the process. He was given many valuables belonging to these families for his aid and stockpiles of art, jewelry and much more still exists. The ledger was only one of many, its contents is what brought Sergio’s death, by the same men he trusted. These IBD members were greedy businessmen who saw only money in the place of loyalty. Nico we have many enemies, we are literally the black sheep of the royal family. Denounced by our great-great grandfather’s people and besieged by those wishing to take what we have, even to end our lives to protect their secrets. It will not stop until the last drop of our blood has been purged from this earth.
